


Days of Summer

by RussianWitch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bestiality, Canon-Typical Violence, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, In later chapters - Freeform, M/M, Manpain, Oral Sex, Wolf Peter, if you really squint, okay so ignore the squinting that's kind of fallen to the wayside in the rewrites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Chris ever expects to see after responding to frantic knocking on the back door of his house is his daughter, Stiles and Derek surrounding something the size of a small pony.</p>
<p>Peter is stuck as a wolf, Chris is stuck babysitting.<br/>Familiarity should breed contempt, it really doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd

**Day 1 **

The last thing Chris ever expects to see after responding to frantic knocking on the back door of his house is his daughter, Stiles, and Derek surrounding something the size of a small pony. Of course, they wouldn't drag a horse to his house so it's a wolf, a wolf with dark blue eyes who's whole demeanor radiates 'I'm surrounded by idiots'. Chris hates that he can't help agreeing, often.

"What's going on?" They all start speaking at once, well Stiles and Allison start to speak, Derek just frowns harder and the wolf yawns at him baring glistening fangs then wagging its broom of a tail.

"Stop," he sighs wondering if he shouldn't be hearing this with at least a beer in hand, "one at a time, Allison first." 

"We were practicing at the preserve, and Peter  _glitched_.  He's stuck, Scott isn't here to get him unstuck and we don't know what to do with him," she looks vaguely guilty probably due to not coming up with a plan of action herself. At least Chris sincerely hopes that's the reason for the look because he's afraid to even contemplate why his daughter and her friends decided that Peter Hale needs to be stuck in wolf form for an extended period of time.

"Scott is getting back next week, probably, and we need somewhere to keep Creepywolf until then, 'cause we can't just leave him at the preserve to massacre innocent bunnies and stuff—And you're probably the only one capable of babysitting a  werewolf anyway what with the working from home and not having to explain to anyone what the hell something that belongs in a zoo is doing shedding on the living room rug—," Stiles trails off when Peter snaps his teeth.

Chris wonders if it's the shedding comment Peter objected to or the claim that he needs a babysitter. Either way, Stiles stops talking with his mouth for the moment, but his eyes keep speaking volumes about the evilness that is Peter Hale. When Chris looks at Derek the younger wolf just shrugs, "my building doesn't allow pets." 

That's how Chris ends up with a barely housebroken werewolf in the house while his daughter goes off to Lydia's for the week.

** Day2  **

Neither of them sleeps the night, Chris spends it in front of the TV coffee in hand,  fully armed waiting for Peter to do something and pretending he isn't. Peter watches him curled up in front of the fireplace in a big, surprisingly fluffy looking ball of resentment, his eyes glowing out of all the darkness.  In the morning Chris takes some pleasure from drinking coffee in front of the mournful looking wolf while deciding what he's supposed to do to feed it.

He could let Peter go hungry for a day or two, the wolf won't like it but he won't be harmed by it, yet Chris finds that he can't bring himself to do it. They are both not functioning at their peak capacity after having only dozed during the night, and from previous experience, Chris knows that it makes both of them cranky. Being stuck in a house with a cranky, _hungry_ wolf doesn't strike him as the best idea if they are both to come out of the experience intact. He frowns at his own breakfast that consists out of scrambled eggs and sausage then back at Peter who's watching him from the door opening.

There is a lot of wolf and not enough scramble.

"I should give you dog food." He nudges Peter aside and goes down to the basement fridge. As he's unlocking the door an indignant huff follows him down. Parting with the steak almost physically hurts, Chris makes a mental note to visit the store later and get supplies, or better yet call Derek and demand that he sponsor the feeding of his relative. 

Back in the kitchen, he can't remember turning off the stove before going into the basement. Peter has migrated to the other side of the central counter to sprawl where the sun enters the kitchen through the windows. His fur glistens in the sunlight thick and inviting, it could make a man forget that he's faced with a killer even if the killer is sunning his belly. Digging around the cabinets he finally comes up with a couple of large bowls, fills one with water and drops the half defrosted meat in the other getting a spring of parsley from the fridge to top it off. Let it not be said that Chris can't be a gracious host, and at least if he feeds that crap to Peter he won't have to eat the damn grass himself.

Peter, of course, doesn't appreciate his efforts: if glares could kill Chris would be atoms.

"I could replace it with wolfsbane?" He offers innocently leaning on the counter with his own food and another cup of coffee. The rest of the day they spend circling each other around the living room. Chris calls Derek about the doggy food and a few hours later a quality butcher does a delivery that elicits a huff of approval from the wolf upon inspection. Chris doesn't bother to check the labels not sure he wants to know how expensive the meat is that he's feeding to a creature who can theoretically go out and bring down his own. 

They both carefully ignore the need for Peter to visit the back yard a couple of times.

It's almost congenial by the end of the day.

** Day 3 **

It doesn't happen often, but Chris needs to go out of the house for once to take a delivery from people who prefer not to come into town. He can't really blame them, especially considering the law in Beacon Hills is more than aware of their kind. Unfortunately, that means either leaving Peter in the house without supervision or taking him along and hoping everyone he meets on the road is blind and mistakes a pony sized wolf for a dog. 

For once he's grateful for all the inherited family crap that's been shipped all across the country along with them. Among it, there are thick, heavy leather collars that were in use when the Argent hunters still used dogs for wolf baiting. He remembers seeing pictures of his great-grandfather posing with his favorite dogs at the turn of the century great beasts almost as big as the wolves they were trained to hunt the collars decorated with heavy spikes to make it difficult for the wolves to tear their throat's out and the Argent crest worked into the leather to make sure everyone will know whom the dogs belong to. 

He roots out one of them, it's almost as black as Peter's fur with beautifully detailed moldings along the edges and goes to find the wolf who after two days of following on his heels has suddenly disappeared. Chris has to track him to his own bedroom of all places before he can show his find. The reaction isn't what Chris would have ever expected: he didn't expect a positive reaction from  Peter, but the way the wolf's hackles rise and the neon-eyed snarl are unexpected, especially considering it's just a piece of leather that will insure no one will take a pot-shot at him, or cart him off to the local pound if they happen to be particularly nearsighted.

"It's either wearing the collar, or I shoot you full of tranquilizer and leave you in a cage in the basement." Chris already knows the dose he's going to need to put Peter down for the day and wonders why he's even giving the annoying man the choice. For some reason, a small part of him cringes at the thought of having to leave Peter alone and caged in the house for the day. Peter trapped in a corner, teeth bared should be more intimidating, but Chris can see his tail folded in protectively and it tells him that Peter isn't angry; he's scared.

"It's just leather, I know you're probably not a fan of the design but I don't have the time to go to a pet store to look for something in your size. Besides , if you make me waste my time on finding you another collar it's going to be pink, have rhinestones and a tag reading 'Fluffy'!" He threatens hoping to at least appeal to Peter's vanity if the wolf refuses to use his  brain,  "this damn thing wasn't even designed to—it wasn't made for a werewolf , it was made for a dog! Which you'll have to pass as until we turn you back . U nless you want to be delivered to the local pound by some nearsighted dogcatcher and have your balls cut off?" He doesn't see the problem, not like the other werewolves around don't know what the situation is,  of course they will make fun, but Peter is an adult he can damn well handle a gaggle of teenagers taking cheap shots at him,  "I gave both my daughter and your nephew my word that I wouldn't kill you without cause."

Peter's ears twitch skeptically, but the continuous growl go down a notch in volume.

"Can I'm assum e that you don't want to deal with animal control, or an overzealous deputy who will shoot first and wonder about what he's shooting later?" Appealing to Peter's common sense is an interesting experience, his answer is an angry bark and Peter lunging. Chris throws himself out of the line of attack , only  to  realize that Peter  i s bluffing when he sees  the bushy tail disappearing up the stairs to the attic  up to his study .

Chris curses his life and follows, wondering why the hell Peter is afraid of a simple collar to discover that the damn wolf has managed to break in and is pacing next to one of the lower shelves. Chris has to actually read the titles to remember what the books there are about and...well...if anything proves that he isn't a bad guy it's this: he completely forgot about THIS. 

A long time ago there were Hunters who kept werewolves as pets, sex toys and weapons with magic infused collars that forced them to do as their masters told them.

The books Peter found describe several of those 'relationships' in detail if Chris recalls correctly. He hasn't touched those books since shortly after hitting puberty , they are  there _only_ because they are part of the collection . In a way they are practically a rite of passage for the male members of the family.

He feels a blush rush up  his neck and sees realization dawning in Peter's eyes. The wolf actually snorts in derision rolling his eyes, tail raised like he's flying a flag.

"Not all of us live and breathe Machiavellian plots ," he tells Peter while concentrating on opening the buckles on the collar mostly sure that he'll be allowed to put it on the wolf now, "I'm trying to make this as painless as possible for both of us."

Peter obviously doesn’t agree  with the sentiment , but does sit down in front of Chris with a slightly lifted muzzle. Chris knows how to pick his battles so he doesn't comment, just bends over and wraps the collar around the wolf's neck ignoring how soft the fur feels and how much trust it takes for Peter to allow him the touch.

"See not so bad," he mumbles while fiddling with the last buckle, Peter just  huffs hot wolf breath in Chris' ear. Black leather gets lost among black fur only the silver accents and spikes stay visible along with the Argent crest carved into the heavy leather. The wolf pushes Chris aside and pads off to look in mirror leaving him to wonder why the sight of the collar around Peter's throat, in wolf form no less, still sends hot shivers down his spine.

Desperate for a distraction he checks his watch discovering that he's running late. With a curse, Chris runs down the stairs while calculating how many traffic laws he's going to have to break to be on time. Peter follows looking put upon but Chris spots his tail twitching when Chris opens the door of the SUV for him to get into the front seat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 6**  

Peter starts a war on Chris' furniture, or possibly just on Chris.

Chris isn't sure if he gets tired of lying on the ground or gets bored, but all of a sudden it's like the floor is lava, and his couch is taken up by the wolf. Chris would love to act like the adult he is, but having Peter around constantly has started taking a toll on his nerves.

He notes the challenge in the half-lidded eyes every time he tries to go about his day ignoring Peter and wonders how long his nerves are going to hold out. Chris very deliberately doesn't think about their interactions. He should scotch-guard all the furniture with wolfsbane  to keep Peter from using the couch as his personal doggy bed.

He shouldn't be playing chicken with the werewolf about their seating arrangements. 

It's getting late by the time Chris finally seizes the opportunity to take back the couch while Peter is visiting the back yard. He makes himself comfortable in his favorite spot with the remote and beer on hand deciding that a bit of brainless entertainment might just calm his nerves.

As if the universe is conspiring against him, or possibly trying to help but Chris just isn't that optimistic these days, Cesar  Millan is explaining that dogs need to know who is boss on the first channel Chris hits. He imagines trying some of the recommended tactics on Peter and snorts imagining the results.  His suspicions are confirmed when Peter wanders back huffs derisively at the television and climbs on the couch flopping down with his head deliberately in Chris' lap.

He has to fight every one of his ingrained instincts _not_  to jump up and get as far away as possible from the deadly jaws so close to his abdomen. Chris manages reminding himself that it's not in Peter's best interests to kill him at the moment. 

Peter wiggles  getting more comfortable and in the process manages to rub his muzzle against Chris' crotch. Of course he does it in a way that forces Chris to think about icebergs and the fact that Gerard is still alive to keep from showing how much he doesn't mind having Peter in his lap.

Chris definitely doesn't think about Peter doing the same thing while  man shaped.  Peter is just yanking his chain after all, not trying to cope a feel for his own benefit. Chris clicks through a couple of more channels finally settling on a basketball game that had the advantage of distracting Peter from his assault on Chris' sanity. 

Until he starts on his second beer and is treated to a truly pathetic whine coupled with one of the more impressive displays of 'puppy eyes' Chris has ever seen in his life, and that's counting actual puppies and Isaac. Peter whines at Chris, then at the bottle with a little less enthusiasm. Chris knows he's being judged for his choice of beer.

Funny that Peter still demands to be served some of it. 

He manfully resists the theatrics for all of ten minutes before finally offering the bottle to the wolf who turns out to be quite adept at drinking from it with a little assistance. They watch the game getting absorbed by it until unthinkingly Chris takes a swing from the bottle and freezes. The bottle neck is still coated with Peter's saliva, he's just—Peter makes a strange sound and looking down Chris realizes that the wolf is laughing at him.  

Heaving Peter off his lap, Chris slinks off to his bedroom conceding the win for the day to the wolf.  

He very deliberately doesn't think about swapping spit with Peter, or how nice it was to have someone to share the couch in the evenings again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor changes have been made to previous chapters to straighten out the narrative

** Day 12 **

Despite all the rumors going around about his family , Chris marvels at how accommodating the other residents of Beacon Hills are sometimes.

They shamelessly gossip about him behind his back, but allow him to take his giant dog into the supermarket even though it clearly isn't a service animal. It could be that they think that the dog will keep him from snapping. Chris wants to tell them not to count on Peter for anything but making him go insane faster and possibly cheering. But maybe he should have, then they might have insisted on the dog waiting outside and Chris would have been able to do the grocery shopping in peace. Because Peter, can't keep his opinion to himself even when threatened. He's getting premium steak delivered courtesy of Derek but still whines when Chris refuses to buy him venison, that's not even counting demanding imported beer. 

For a wolf, Peter has _a lot_ of demands.  

Chris wants his house back and his daughter home where he can keep an eye on her too. Talking to Allison on the phone every couple of days isn't the same. Unfortunately,  none of the kids have any idea when Scott is coming back: 'next week' has been overshot by almost week and Chris is still sharing his house with a wolf instead of his daughter.

He does have to give them credit for managing to avoid him, it's almost like someone has been giving them all pointers. Peter, when not being an ass, isn't too happy with the situation either. Chris has caught him a couple of times staring at himself in the hallway mirror looking as  unhappy as a giant wolf can get. The sight makes Chris' heart twinge  and it takes some effort to  convince himself he doesn't want to go over and pet Peter until the look goes away.

He can understand getting stuck as something you don't want to be all too well.

It doesn't help that e veryone in the know is surprised they haven't done each other bodily hard yet . Peter,  even when out to annoy , is decent company to Chris' amazement.  T hey get the hang of Peter  not bothering Chris  while he's  work ing most of the time and the sharing of the television, couch and beer in the evenings. Victoria had always hated being idle , she didn't see the point of wasting time in front of the television so they didn't.

Chris blames sharing with the wolf so willingly on the novelty of the experience. He knows he shouldn't be sitting around: he should be patrolling or taking care of the weapons of even trying to recreate ties with other hunters that have been damaged by Gerard's actions over the years and Chris' unwillingness to kill the wolves in his territory simply for existing. Instead he sits there watching a dumb movie and feeding the wolf beer until he remembers who it is he's sharing with and has to retreat to his bedroom.  

Peter of course can't stand a status quo.  

So after a week of mostly peaceful cohabitation Chris goes off to bed one night like he usually does and wakes up the next morning cuddling a wolf.  

Peter is very lucky he doesn't get shot right then and there  Allison's law be damned. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 13**

Chris locks the bedroom door behind him after spending most of the day glaring at the self-satisfied wolf.

He spends a long time listening to the paint getting scratched off his bedroom door by wolf claws.

He promises himself to paint Allison's windows with wolfsbane infused paint to communicate his displeasure to one Alpha McCall.

Chris dreams of walking through the woods around the compound where he spent most of his childhood.

He used to be scared of those wood for a long time. In his dream, there is someone walking at his side, and he isn't afraid.

In the morning he almost breaks his neck over an unexpected wolf shaped speed bump right in front of his door.

Chris' second favorite holster, he left hanging in the hall, is in pieces at the bottom of the stairs.   

 

**Day 14**

Despite being pissed off about the holster, Chris can't bring himself to lock Peter in the garage.

He doesn't want to wake up to ripped up tires or a scratched up paint job as it's practically a Hale-pack tradition to destroy vehicles.

He can't lock Peter in a cage in the basement either, because as annoying as Peter is, he doesn't deserve the horror show of having to spend the night locked up among implements aimed solely at his and his kind's destruction. So he's left with no other choice but to put a chair against the door and hope for the best. 

This results in being woken in the middle of the night by the wolf bringing the door down. Chris has to force his finger off the trigger as the belligerent looking wolf waits patiently for Chris' brain cells to start firing properly before moving closer. 

Chris is still keeping a bead on Peter when he hops up on the bed, circles a couple of times and curls up covering his muzzle with his tail as if he isn't one twitch from getting a wolfsbane laced bullet through the heart. Chris is left gaping dumbly at Peter's brashness until his body crashes from the adrenaline high. After that, he barely manages to put the safety on the gun before he's out like a light.

In the morning Peter' muzzle is on his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 20**

Chris can't put off patrolling any longer.

He knows that Allison and the other wolves have taken up the slack, but it isn't their job.

It's his.

Peter follows him out to the garage, and barks until Chris allows him to get in the car.

As soon as they hit the preserve, Peter disappears into the undergrowth. Chris follows his preferred route keeping an eye out for signs of trespassers. There is a lot of ground to cover and Chris usually checks only a few miles at a time as thoroughly as he can. Peter occasionally reappears circling and covering wide swatches of ground.

Chris can occasionally hear the sounds of pursuit in the distance, but no sounds of fighting. There is no large game around to present any real threat to the wolf so Chris doesn't bother to chase after him. Peter comes back on his own walking the rest of the patrol at Chris' side after getting his fill of running around.

The patrol certainly goes faster than usual.

Chris isn't sure if it's because of the company or having a second pair of eyes and ears checking things over. They manage to cover twice the distance with Peter dismissing things that would take Chris time to investigate properly.

There is still blood on Peter's muzzle when they get back to the car. Rather than wash blood off the car seats, Chris finds himself washing the wolf's muzzle while trying not to get licked.

Without a door, he can't keep Peter out of the bedroom. When Chris comes out of the shower the wolf is already pretending to be asleep stretched out across most of the bed.

Chris doesn't comment, but after getting in on his side yanks the covers hard almost managing to dump the wolf off the bed. He rolls himself in the covers listening to annoyed grumbling as Peter has to get comfortable again.

 

**Day 24**

When anyone asks how Chris is doing these days, he answers 'fine' and disappears on them as fast as he can.

He feels like Peter is taking over his house and there is still no clear idea when Scott is planning on getting his ass back to Beacon Hills.

He'll have to when school starts up again.

But that's quite a while off yet, and Chris is starting to lose it: Peter is everywhere surrounding him and taking over his life. No matter what he does there the wolf is: in his bed, in his office, on the couch and in the yard and forest.

Funny thing is that Chris doesn't so much want Peter to go away as for Peter to turn human.

He has to go out to the gun range to shoot round after round into a target until he manages to push the want back into its box and nail the lid on tight.

 

**Day 25**

Now that Chris has grudgingly accepted his presence in his bed, Peter invades his shower.

It starts with the incident from which they had both come back covered in slime after encountering something that is 90% ooze and a 100% bad temper. They are both forced to use the emergency shower in the garage to get the top layer dirt off, the rest Chris had to scrub off himself and the wolf with hot water and soap which required the shower.

Unfortunately, Peter had liked it, especially the vigorous scrubbing needed to get all the crap out of his fur.

As far as Chris is concerned he liked it a little bit too much.

Enough to start invading Chris' showers at any rate.

Chris turns the water on as hard as he can and tries to pretend that he doesn't hear the paint getting scratched off yet another door. He ignores it, concentrating on soaping himself up until there is a loud crack that signals the death of another lock and a big furry body crowds him against the cold tile wall while getting itself wet.

"God damn it, Peter! Get the fuck out!" He thunders grabbing the wolf's sensitive ears. Giving them a yank, trying to turn the wolf around and shove him out of the stall. Peter yelps and growls struggling, and head-butting Chris into the wall leaving him gasping for breath in the process.

It's a miracle they both fit, Chris' shower isn't that big: Victoria never saw the sense in wasting space. The wolf's hot breath is on his abdomen and his muscles tense expecting to feel teeth next. Peter wags his soggy tail and turns so that they can both take advantage of the water, only Chris could swear he feels a swipe of a rough tongue across his balls before Peter very pointedly starts scratching at the shelf that holds the shampoo. Chris could be imagining things, it could be accidental due to lack of space or maybe it's just Chris.

Since Peter decided to crash his showers Chris hasn't managed any alone time and his balls feel ready to burst. He's considered calling Derek to demand he take his uncle for walkies, or something so Chris can jerk off in peace already before anything explodes from under-use. Asking Peter to leave him alone for half an hour or so would be pointless and Chris draws the line of jerking off while getting stared at. 

Chris ends up lathering up a wolf the size of a calf in exchange for being able to finish his cold shower in peace afterward.

Mercifully the question of conditioner hasn't arisen so far.

Chris has already promised himself to put his foot down about blow-drying if it ever comes up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 27 **  

Allison stops by to pick up some clothing, and check that they haven't killed each other yet.

Chris can see that she isn't comfortable in the house so he bites the bullet and takes her shopping.

They don't do that, they've never done that: shopping was always something Victoria did with Allison while he spend their father-daughter time taking her to the archery range or the zoo. She's outgrown the zoo now, and they need to spend time together that doesn't involve training to fight for their survival so shopping  it is. There is a minor scuffle that Chris ignores between Peter and Allison regarding the front seat that ends with the wolf sulking in the back and his triumphant daughter at his side.

Chris is looking for escape routes inside an hour, guns he can do faced with a shop full of shoes he can admit to feeling intimidated. 

As a bonus, he has to watch his daughter and Peter bond over shoes. Or at least temporarily halt hostilities after Peter chases away the sales girls and take over giving her suggestions. They 'why' and 'how' of Peter's knowledge of woman's shoes escape Chris, but Allison seems to get happier with every suggestion. He doesn't really see the point of heels: if anything should happen they won't do any wonders for her balance. When he points it out, he gets two pitying looks and his daughter telling him to go sit and mind the bags.

Banished, he watched as suspicion slowly drains out of his daughter's face as even the shop girls have to concede that Peter the Wonder Dog knows what he's doing. Chris marvels at the human capacity to reason away a wolf picking out shoes, responding to Allison's comments about his selection and acting accordingly. 

At least he figures, they are having fun. 

When he finally drops Allison and a bigger amount of shopping bags than he cares to think about at Lydia's she hugs him reminding Chris of the little girl she no longer is. 

Peter doesn't even wait for the door to close behind her before  worming his way between the seats into his usual spot.

** Day 30 **

A heat wave has descended motivating every sane and insane creature to look for shelter.

Having the largest back yard of the whole pack, Chris becomes host to the lot when they decide they need a pool party to cool off. Humans, wolves and assorted creatures alike finds spots to lounge around among several kiddy pools filled to the brim for them to amuse themselves with. Chris observes the zoo from the back porch as the teenagers...frolic and one large wolf soaks in a pool of his very own especially set up in the shade by Derek and Stiles. Peter hasn't bothered to get out of the shallow water the whole afternoon growling at everyone who tries to approach without fresh ice, or a bowl of beer in hand. 

Peter's tail wags lazily making waves in the water as he watches the teens playing and sunbathing. With all of them present Peter doesn't follow Chris around as he does when they are alone. Chris decides to take advantage of it to slip away to finally see to his needs before he does something stupid. As the only adult present, for some reason Peter never counts, he is mostly ignored by everyone anyway, so Chris slips away. He turns on the shower in deference to delicate werewolf ears before making himself comfortable on the bed.

Chris hadn't bothered with a shirt in deference to the weather, when he runs his hand across his chest it comes away damp with sweat. He fumbles with the buttons of his jeans pushing them down just enough to get at himself. His dick has swollen alreadywith anticipation, his balls ache hot, heavy and tight. Chris pulls on his sack squeezing the sensitive orbs enjoying the slight pain. Closing his eyes he finds his nipple by feel pinching it until it's tight.

His thoughts wander to Peter as he does.

Peter, and the smarmy smirk that is usually on his lips,the way it tempts Chris to try biting, or licking it off. He isn't sure what he wants more by now. He always imagines Peter is no more accommodating in bed than he is out of it when he allows himself to think about the wolf. The thought of Peter snarling and savage as he pins Chris to the bed and takes his pleasure makes Chris' dick jump. 

Chris has never been one to get rough in bed. Sex is the one area of his life he's always preferred gentleness, yet the thought of Peter getting rough in pursuit of pleasure gets him leaking. He moves his hand from balls to dick squeezing the damp flesh in a tight fist until there is an edge of pain to the pleasure before starting to stroke slowly. Peter would fuck him on all fours, he decides, mount him like a bitch. A werewolf mounting a hunter, the thought should disgust him. It's the most forbidden thrill Chris can imagine, he wonders if Peter would see such an encounter the same way too. Chris moans at the thought of it: getting fucked by Peter, or have the wolf ride his dick. He flicks his fingers against his nipples then twists them viciously moaning at the feel of pain transforming into pleasure. The touch goes straight to his dick making him swell in his grasp.

Chris knows that he should hurry, but his fantasy demands he take his time. In his thoughts they can take all the time they want, can lazy about the bed rubbing against each other  until they are both covered in each other's scent. He speeds his hand up, grinds his ass against the mattress to sooth the ache his thoughts have started there.

Thoughts of fucking and getting fucked transform into thoughts of Peter lounging on a chair at the foot of  the bed telling Chris what do, how to stroke himself . He can imagine the mix of insult and encouragement that would come out of Peter's mouth as he sits there composed coaching Chris into fa ll apart for him.

Peter would order him to take off his pants, show his ass despite the danger of someone walking in, and Chris would do it. He'd suck on his fingers when asked, push them inside of himself as deep as they would go. 

A hot surge of embarrassment runs through his body tightening his balls  further  as Chris imagines himself on his back, legs wide , and hard dick waving in the air as he uses the fingers of both his hands to stretch the rim of his asshole wide because Peter wants to see him do it .

A corner of Chris' mind marvels how alright he is with the thought of such displays, the rest of him is far too absorbed in the pleasure of fucking his own hand to care one way or another. Leaving his nipples alone, Chris trails his hand down to cup his balls again, to squeeze gently with every buckling of his hips. He needs to come, wants to come with all the images still dancing through his brain. Animal sounds escape his throat: grunts and growls that turn in to keening as he gets closer to release until he has to turn his head smothering them in the pillow. 

With orgasm comes relief, and emptiness.

Chris rolls onto his side uncaring of the mess he's made of himself curling up into a ball. Despite the aftershocks of pleasure shakinghis body loneliness rises up eclipsing everything else. He misses Victoria, misses knowing there is someone there for him. No matter how much they might have disagreed on matters relating to running the family as a whole, they had been committed to each other, to being 'them'. Chris can't remember spending even a single night not sharing the bed with his wife while home in twenty years of marriage.

If it had been up to him if he had been able to convince her...

Chris slams the lid on his thoughts, forces himself up and into the bathroom to clean up using enough soap that everyone will be able to maintain the illusion that they don't know what he's been doing. His pants are a mess so he changes out of them and puts on a shirt for good measure, heat be damned he needs the barrier between himself and the world.

Only then does he notice that the door is ajar when he distinctly remembers closing it.

There is a puddle in the hall and a trail of drips leading down the stairs and through the kitchen getting lost in the general mess of wet footprints there. 

When Chris goes outside the teens are playing Frisbee while Derek is poking at the grill with an intense look of concentration on his face.

Peter is still lying in his pool listlessly lapping at the bowl of beer in front of him almost looking morose. 

Only when he's managed to chase everyone out and is in the process of cleaning up the remainder of the debris does Chris realize that Peter hasn't met his eyes once the whole evening.


	7. Chapter 7

** Day 33**

Af t er t hey finally get home, Chris has to wonder what prompted him to take Peter along in the first place.

They've settled down enough that he's been leaving the wolf without supervision when going out for weeks sure that he won't get back to find his house trashed. The morning shouldn't have been different, except that it was. Things have been differentever since the sort-of-pool party the weekend before. Peter has seemed more subdued, even distant for no reason what so ever as far as Chris can ascertain.

Despite the meeting being hunter business, Chris decides to drag the wolf out of the house in the hope of maybe cheering him up, or at least getting Peter annoyed enough to snap out of his sour mood. They drive out of town with the windows down, Chris has to look away so Peter doesn't notice his amusement when after the wolf sticks his head out of the window letting his tongue fly. 

With the radio on Chris can imagine they' re just out for a drive enjoying the day together.

Out behind the gun range, Chris' dealers are already waiting leaning against their truck like teenagers. He doesn't like them, the legacy of Gerard that they are, but hasn't managed to find others who can deliver what he needs, yet.

After all, it's not like he can walk into a gun shop and order the bullets he and his hunters need. He'd wanted tostart making them himself once upon a time: had thought about settling down somewhere and concentrating on crafting the weapons of their trade instead of using them. He'd even suggested it to Victoria when Allison had been old enough to enter school. They could have settled down somewhere close to one of the main compounds and—Victoria hadn't agreed, Gerard's only son couldn't be a lowly gunsmith he'd be a hunter until it killed him.

Chris suspects that his suggestion had been the first time he'd disappointed his wife.

It certainly hadn't been the last.

Peter whines snapping Chris out of his dark thoughts . H e refuses to look at the wolf with  memories of  his wife still fresh in his mind.  Instead, h e gets out of the car checking his gun while the car covers the action. Peter doesn't bother to wait for him to open the door and squeezes himself out of the open window to take up position at Chris' side.  Chris hopes to hell that Peter's autonomy will be taken for  the behavior of  a well trained dog instead of independent decision making.

The men at the truck  wait for Chris to come to them, looking smug and bored whispering among themselves . Peter growls just loud enough for Chris to hear, his ears  and tail raised his eyes glued to the two men. The closer they gets the more Chris' hands itch for his gun.

At his s ide he can hear Peter's continuous growl pick up a notch and suspects that if he reaches out he'll feel tense muscle under the fur.  The men greet him jovially, but something is still off as they reaffirm price and invite Chris to check the crates for quality. Not willi ng to arouse suspicion, he goes with them to bend over one of the  opened crates.

The bullets look as they always do neatly packed away in their boxes. When he picks one of them up the weig ht is as it should be—Peter growls behind him and Chris hears a body hitting the ground w ith a dull thud .

He straightens up gun in hand aimed at the other dealer just in time to see Peter rip out the first one's throat. There is a taser still clutched in the man's hand sparking in the air as he squeezes the trigger in his death throws barely missing Peter's collar. 

"What's going on?" Chris demands, slamming the  other man into the side of the truck, shoving the gun under his jaw . The dealer stammers and curses ignoring the gun in favor of something over Chris' shoulder. He hopes to hell that Peter hasn't decided on a snack, the brush of a furry, muscular shoulder against the back of his thigh sets him, if not his prisoner at ease on that front.

"What the hell is that thing!?" The dealer whines when Peter snaps his jaws in the man's general direction drops of still warm blood flying into the man's face.

"Never mind 'that thing', think about what I'm going to do to you if you don’t answer me right this minute!" He growls in the dealer's face, pressing the gun  into soft flesh  hard enough to bruise.

"There was a rumor that you've taken up with the monsters! Figured the Argent matriarch would pay if we made sure you weren't around to sully a good hunter family name any longer! It's not right! You protecting those animals!" The dealer finishes in a rage. Chris' insides go cold, not like he didn't expect the backlash but not outright assault without warning.

"Anyone else share that opinion?" Peter's predicament aside, things have been awfully quite for them the whole summer.  It would be  just his luck to have hunters declaring war just as everyone has started healing .

"Yeah! Loads of people! Including your own family! There was even talk about a price on your head a while back," the information makes him stumble back terrified by the thought of someone managing to collect on the bounty, leaving Allison alone in the world. Their own family would leave his little girl an orphan to safe themselves the embarrassment of one of their own openly deviating from the Code the rest barely keeps to in the first place.

The thought leaves Chris feels like killing something.

He br iefly considers killing the man whom Peter  has taken over  keeping  pinned when Chris—stepped away. It wouldn't be difficult, there are a lot of places he can hide the body in the preserve where it will never be found. Not like Peter would tell anyone,  a couple of more dead hunters won't keep the wolf up at night.

But the Code keeps ringing through his head reminding him that he is not to raise his hand to humans. Chris finds himself meeting dark blue eyes helplessly and seeing unexpected understanding. Strangely, having Peter's support energizes him again to the  extent that he feels a little more balanced. Stepping closer Chris digs his hand into the wolf's fur right above the heavy collar to keep himself grounded.

"Is there an actual bounty ?" The man shrugs looking from man to beast unsure who the bigger threat is: the 'dog' or the man.

"Never heard more than a rumor, but I wouldn't count on anyone coming if you call. Not a lot of use for t raitors in our circles, is there? " Getting brave he spits in Chris' direction and ends up with  Peter's jaw s around his throat.

Locking his rage down, Chris bares his teeth at his former colleague.

"I'll remember not to call, " he hooks a finger in Peter's collar giving the leather a gentle pull,  "consider this our last business transaction. I'm letting you go, so you can tell everyone  that Beacon Hills is my turf. I'll be making sure that the humans here are safe and that includes  safe from all threats supernatural and human. Anyone else I catch here after you leave the county,  I will not be as considerate!" Peter's  growl almost drowns out the final words as he  snaps his fangs  one more time then jumps away with a yelp.

Chris is ready to shoot in case the dealer has done something to his—to Peter. The dealer slumped against the truck curses and whines trying to cover up that he's just pissed himself in fear.

Peter makes disgusted sounds wrinkling his nose at the smell.

" Priss !" Chris hisses at him soft enough that their prisoner  d oesn’t hear it.

Peter sniffs, offended, and turns his back to the humans. Chris refrains from pointing out that his tail is wagging just a little making the grass rustle. 

Loading the crates by himself takes more time than Chris had planned for, but he prefers not to take chances by enlisting the dealer's help. He checks every one of the crates before dragging them over to his car. Peter stands guard snapping and growling at their prisoner when he starts looking like he's getting a grip but keeping far enough away that he won't put a paw in the mess the man made by accident. As much as Chris would love to leave it, they take the body as well. While quiet, the spot they are in does occasionally see traffic and Chris doesn't want to saddle the sheriff with an unsolved murder plus cleanup when he can do it just as well.

Peter helps with the burying.

A ll in all, Chris figures they both deserve something for being on their best behavior.

The residents of Beacon Hills are treated to the sight of one of their most notorious residents sitting on the bench in front of the local ice-cream parlor sharing a couple of cones with his monster dog.

** Day 37 **

Chris puts all of his energy in making it known that Beacon Hills county is off limits to all hunters.

The kids and Derek suddenly decide that Peter needs to participate in their pack me etings and training.

Chris has to remind himself that he isn't getting left behind. He isn't pack, after all. He isn't being vindictive when he calls John Stilinski and Melissa McCall and offers further education regarding the world their children have gotten tangled in.

Miraculously, both are free and eager to come over, they end up sitting on the back porch with takeout and beer commiserating about their various offspring.

By the time Peter returns they are slightly buzzed and cheerful.

Chris laughs at the disgruntled look on Peter's muzzle when he sees them sitting there. Peter retaliates by hoisting himself into Chris' lap to steal the cashew chicken off his plate.

The rest of the evening there is a wolf barrier between Chris and the other two humans.

Chris doesn't get why John and Melissa suddenly start exchanging amused looks. 


	8. Chapter 8

  **Day 40 **

Chris wakes up from dreaming that he's making out with Peter.

From lying fully clothed wrapped around each other on the living room couch, to lying wrapped around the wolf in bed, humping his flank. Shock keeps him from coming if only barely, he's out of the bed and in the bathroom turning on the cold water full blast like a shot as soon as his brain kicks in. 

Peter doesn't follow as he usually does, Chris stands under the icy spray until he's shivering and turning blue. The water doesn't do anything to wash away how good the dream felt: the closeness that saturated it, the false sense memory of holding another body against his own.

Chris hates how much he wants it to be real. 

When he finally gets out bedroom is empty and so is the kitchen. Nevertheless, he makes his and Peter's usual breakfasts, eats his own mechanically then locks himself in his office.

Peter is still in the house because when Chris checks, the food he set out is gone. For an animal his size Peter is good at hiding, Chris doesn't see him once the few times he wanders out of his office. He goes to bed for the first time in what seems like forever without a wolf making itself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

Chris tells himself that he's grateful and watches the ceiling for the rest of the night. 

**Day 41 **

Peter appear s for breakfast like nothing happened.

He spends the day in the corner of Chris' office watching while Chris carefully works through a long list of contacts checking which ones are still good and trying to come up with new suppliers for his equipment. Unless a new major evil rears its ugly head, the inventory Chris has will last him a while yet with most of his hunter having left already, but eventually, he'll need new supplies, and he wants to know where they will be coming from beforehand. Thankfully hunting requires a surprisingly small a mount of ammunition when one can simply go over and yell at the local pack for endangering people and set the wolves themselves on everything else.

While Peter joins him on the couch to watch television, the wolf doesn't invade his personal space any longer and doesn't demand  Chris share his  beer.

He doesn't miss the warmth of having a wolf practically lying in his lap half the night.

Chris drags himself off to bed alone. 

** Day 42 **

While out on a grocery run, Chris buys cigarettes. 

He hasn't smoked in years, gave it up when Allison was born and managed not to start again despite all the stakeouts, conferences and gun shows he's been to over the years. 

Chris gives up on lying to himself about going to go to sleep any moment now around two A.M., grabs a pack and goes out on the porch to smoke. 

He is still sitting there when the sun comes up. 

** Day 43 **

No hunter will trust him at their back any longer, but a couple don't feel like shooting him outright.

Meager pay back for twenty years of working together.

One does mention he'd be interested in taking any of the guns he is willing to sell off Chris' hands, as long as they are the ones Chris has adapted personally. The offer reminds him of the long abandoned dream of getting into the business of gun making again. At least if he sets up his own workshop, Chris would still be able to help the community even if he isn't welcome in it. And he'd be able to keep himself and Allison supplied with all that they need himself instead of relying on others. 

Doubt sets in almost at once: he's meant for the front lines, not a workshop after all. Then Chris remembers that there is no one left to tell him he isn't allowed any longer.

He doesn't even try to fall asleep but goes straight to the porch fresh pack in hand. 

** Day 44 **

His body gives out on him, luckily when he's near his bed getting changed for the day.

Chris comes too with the covers clumsily pulled over him and Peter curled up on the floor next to the bed. He wonders why Peter hasn’t crawled up onto the bed like he did before—before Chris fucked up.

When he sits up, Peter raises his head as well squinting like he's trying to check Chris over and sniffing covertly. Chris knows that he's fine now that his body has caught up on rest, he doesn't see why Peter is acting like that, the wolf can't be worried. As soon as he's through checking Chris over, Peter disappears from the room.

Chris catches himself considering some kind of self inflicted injury to make Peter come back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go so the end is in sight!


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 50**

He meets Allison at a café for their once a week father-daughter bonding session and has to stop her from dragging him to the nearest doctor's post. Chris knows that he looks like shit, he hadn't known it was that bad.

"Did Peter do something?" She asks hesitantly like she doesn't really want to ask but has to anyway. Chris wonders if he's been so transparent that the kids he barely sees have noticed his fixation on the wolf.

He promises himself to do better.

"Doesn't he always do something? I haven't been sleeping well," Peter doesn't deserve having the pack pissed off at him when Chris is the one at fault, "he hasn't done anything to me. In fact, if you want to be angry with someone, be angry with Scott for pulling a disappearing act." He bites out then has to apologize because it isn't Allison's fault that her father is broken.

"I'm just worried about you, dad. You didn't seem as sad for a while and now all of a sudden—," she shrugs poking at her sandwich. Chris reaches out and squeezes her hand awkwardly trying to communicate how grateful he is to have her worrying about him.

He changes the subject then, tells her he's thinking about crafting guns. She greets his idea with enthusiasm offering her help at once. Chris knows he doesn't need his daughter's permission for the endeavor, but years of habit are too hard to break. He goes home feeling a little lighter and with the realization that for the first time in his life he's chosen something for himself and has been allowed it.

If only—

He smothers the idle hope by the time he gets home. 

**Day 55**

Chris takes to wandering the house in the middle of the night. Just the upper floor at first, then the downstairs and basement as well weaving in and out of the utility rooms. That's when he stumbles across Peter's new sleeping place.

The laundry room holds the heat of the day making the air hard to breathe. Peter doesn't wake up when Chris stops in the doorway. He continues sleeping his nose buried in one of Chris' dirty shirts.

The sight leaves Chris confused as he seeks out his usual spot on the back porch. The urge to wake Peter up and drag him back to the bedroom so that they can both get some sleep is almost overwhelming. But no matter what Chris might think, he can't exactly ask Peter's thoughts on the subject not as long as he's a wolf and even as a human—Chris hadn't bothered keeping an eye on the general comings and goings of the individual pack members for a while, for all he knows Peter has found someone to keep him warm and is eager to get back to them.

Lighting up another cigarette Chris congratulates himself on finally having descended to the kid's level. Any day now he's going to resort to passing notes and pulling the wolf's tail, possibly asking Derek to ask— Both wolves and hunters function better in packs, they are stronger in a group and the added advantage is that you don't have time to stop and think about things with everything that needs to be done on a daily basis to keep the group going. Chris has managed to avoid introspection over the years, he isn't oblivious to his own bad habits but introspection gets hunters killed, being alone gets hunters killed too.

Surprising how much he has in common with the wolves in the end. How much he has in common with Peter, murderers the both of them in their own ways, loyal to the point of stupidity, not cut out to be alone. 

Peter, if he knew what Chris is thinking, would probably disagree but he's the one who's been haunting Beacon Hills refusing to leave even when Derek had been still ready to maim him on sight just because Derek is the only family Peter has left and Beacon Hills is home. Not really that different from Chris allowing Allison to keep her werewolf boyfriend and staying instead of putting his foot down and moving away to somewhere the supernatural doesn't like to be.

They are both looking to earn their way into a pack.

It would be nice not to have to do it alone.

**Day 56**

He orders the first batch of the supplies for his new craft and cleans out part of the basement.

If the business takes off he can always look for another space for a workshop, but for the moment he doesn't need much: just room to set up an extra work bench and decent light. Cleaning out the basement leaves him pleasantly tired by the time he collapses on the couch with a celebratory beer. Peter turns up unexpectedly to curl up in a ball on the other side of it. The sight of the wolf huddling away from him sends Chris' good mood plummeting.

Being deprived of contact after getting it forced on him, it makes Chris petty. After having his personal space invaded for weeks returning the favor looks like a damn good idea.

Old methods usually work best too. Chris sprawls out throwing his arms over the back of the couch shifting further toward the middle of it every time he reaches for his beer. Eventually, he can brush the tips of his fingers across the fur on Peter's back. It feels like a hollow victory and leaves Chris' head filled with delusions. As much as he wants to maintain the touch, soon he has to retreat to his bedroom.

In the shower under cover of water Chris reaches for his dick jerking it roughly while imagining that he's just waiting for a lover to join him. Thinking of a faceless man doesn't work, they keep transforming into Peter no matter how hard Chris concentrates.

When he imagines a mouth on his dick, he can't help thinking about amused eyes looking up at him glowing neon blue with excitement. Imagining shoving his dick into a tight ass only leads to thinking about having to watch out for flailing claws that shred the sheets lost in pleasure and falling asleep wrapped around an unnaturally warm body sharing sleepy kisses. He paints the tiles with his come Peter's voice in his head telling him that Peter wants him.

Despite leaving both doors open, Chris can't find any evidence of having been watched.


	10. Chapter 10

**Day 60**

Chris is aware that he's acting like a teenager: using stupid tricks to force Peter's attention. The wolf submits to these fumbling attempts and leaves when he gets tired of them.

Chris imagines them going on like this if Scott doesn't return: man and wolf circling each other with no resolution in sight. Chris finds that if he can't have everything, the way they are now is more than fine with him.

The pragmatist in him points out that it might not be such a bad thing. Peter doesn't exactly have a lot of options as long as he's stuck in wolf form. He can't even go look for another pack without any means to make it clear that he would like to join, to become one of them so that the Alpha could turn him human again.

As long as Peter is a wolf, Chris can keep him.

Allison tells him that Scott has promised to return in four days, but she's told him that Scott is coming back soon for two months now. He doesn't want to think what will happen after Peter turns human again.

Chris managed to put himself back together after Victoria, and that was after twenty years of marriage. He will manage it just as well after only two months spend sharing the house with a wolf.

At least Allison will be back home again. 

**Day 61**

Peter follows Chris from room to room again like a black shadow hovering at the edge of Chris' line of sight. He sits just close enough that, with some effort, Chris can steal a touch here and there without being too obvious about it.

He isn't planning on taking Peter along when it turns out he has to go into town, but the wolf blocks the door pointedly looking at the collar that has found a permanent spot on the coat rack. Chris digs his fingers into the thick fur taking his time with the heavy buckles, fastening them just right.

Peter waits patiently for him to be done.

While they are walking down the main street of Beacon Hills Chris keeps a hand on the wolf's head sparing Peter the indignity of a leash and giving the people around them the impression that the animal is contained. Peter keeps perfect pace staying under Chris' hand the whole time.

They go for ice-cream again. 

**Day 62**

They spend the day on the couch watching television somehow ending up in a pile sharing beer for the first time since the 'incident'. Chris pretends to fall asleep against the wolf's side clutching at the soft fur. He stays awake as long as he can enjoying the closeness and listening to the wolf's breathing.

Despite trying to stay awake, he falls asleep with the wolf's head on his chest, for once content. Chris dreams of Peter wrapping around him, rough tongue lapping at his cheek and throat, whining softly.

It's the first time he dream about the wolf instead of the man, but it doesn’t really matter, not in the dream where in either shape it's still Peter. In his dream Chris holds on tighter as if he won't be required to let go soon.

For the first time in weeks, he gets a decent night of sleep. 

**Day 63**

Chris gets drunk.

He digs out the cheap bottle of vodka he always keeps as part of his hunting kit. Chris doesn't drink a lot as some of hunters to: it's a weakness he's never been able to afford. But on occasion, usually at the end of a particularly brutal hunt, he's allowed himself to indulged for the night and drink away the memories. He takes the bottle along to the bedroom so he'll be comfortable when eventually passing out.

Half way down the bottle he imagines seeing Peter's eyes glistening in the doorway. The thought of them on him rips a lust filled moan from Chris' throat. With Peter watching, he can think of only one thing to do. 

Setting the bottle aside after taking one last gulp, Chris pulls his shirt off. His pants prove more difficult, but after a brief struggle they are in a heap next to the bed.

He shifts to the middle of the mattress not taking his eyes from the bright blue points in the doorway while letting his hand roam across his chest and down his stomach. He teases himself with the too light touch, rakes his nails through the fur on his chest and pinches his nipples until the tight nubs are too slick with sweat to grasp before moving on. Chris spreads his thighs pushing a pillow under his ass to make sure Peter has a proper view.

He's damned anyway might as well do what he wants, Chris thinks, raking his nails across his abdomen and thighs enjoying the sting while his dick stands proud.

He wonders if Peter is enjoying the sight.

Chris isn't under any illusions, not really, Peter will be turned human and things will go back to the way they were at the beginning of summer: working together when necessary and nothing more.

He sucks two fingers into his mouth licking them until the digits are properly wet, then trails them down skirting his dick and balls to press against his asshole. The angle is awkward and Chris has to strain to work his fingers inside himself. Sweat makes it easier as he goes, his hips dance up without his leave until he's riding his own fingers.

A growl rents the air, and Chris thinks it to have come from his throat for a moment until his brain registers that the glowing blue points he's been focusing on are now closer. In the dim he can see Peter's form at the foot of the bed, fore-paws braced on the foot board.

The growl turns in to a continuous rumble that shakes the bed growing louder when Chris tries to pull his fingers out of his body and subsiding only when he pushes them back in going back to what he was doing.

His free hand finds his dick, starts jerking it purposefully eager to find release while the moment stretches. Chris wishes he had better leverage, that he could just move his hips riding his fingers and fucking into his hand but changing position now would break the spell that must be keeping Chris from thinking too hard about what he's doing.

His eyes keep falling shut and Chris has to fight to keep them open, keep watching Peter who has climbed fully onto the bed to lie between Chris' legs his tail thumping the mattress matching Chris' rhythm. He can feel Peter's hot breath on his skin, indulges himself by imagining that he can hear Peter panting with unfulfilled lust. As he comes closer to release, Chris finds himself chanting Peter's name, nothing more hidden, no excuses left.

With an anguished sob Chris pulls his fingers from his body, reaches down until his hand closes around thick, warm fur and leather that still surrounds Peter's throat branding him Chris' for the moment to drags the wolf up until he is hovering over Chris' body.

The wolf hunches down until Chris feels fur on his skin. With the wolf's full weight on him, Chris can't keep fucking his fist, can only clutch at Peter and wait for whatever the wolf wants to give him.

Peter bend his head, drags his rough tongue across Chris' throat and down his chest scraping it over Chris' nipples until he is cursing. His hips thrust up on their own accord grinding his dick into the fur of Peter's belly.

Chris' mind short-circuits when he feels the wolf's hard length against his own. Peter thrust down against him, grinds their lengths together driving them onward towards release at a brutal pace. Chris comes shaking apart, his only anchor to reality neon blue eyes.

His orgasm drags on locking his body, leaving him oversensitive and helpless as the wolf finishes as well humping against his hip and growling his release before collapsing.

When he can move again Chris wraps himself around the wolf uncaring of what Peter's opinion is on the subject.

Even drunk Chris knows that this is the last decent sleep he's going to have for a while.

**Day 64**

Scott looks like a scolded puppy when Allison drags him into the house nice and early. Luckily she's had sense enough to call before coming over giving Chris time to untangle himself from the wolf. They both need a shower to get the evidence of the night off their body, he goes about it as clinical as he's able to manage.

Chris doesn't look the wolf in the eyes.

Peter allows himself to be washed without his usual antics leaving the bathroom as soon as he can. Chris stays longer, as if the water will eventually wash away his stupidity from the night before. 

Chris tries to offer Peter breakfast but the wolf refuses pacing by the front door until the kids arrive. Only when Scott shifts into beta-shape does Chris remember that Peter is still wearing the collar.

He kneels down hands clumsy to the buckles undoing them as fast as he can. Kneeling down for easier reach, pretending as if he hasn't done this more than a dozen times practically one handed.

Peter rests his head on Chris' shoulder, he can feel the tension in the wolf as he patiently waits for Chris to finish. When he no longer has any excuse to keep fumbling, Chris slips the leather from Peter's neck.

When Peter's tongue scrapes across his throat and jaw as he pulls away, it feels like a goodbye.

Scott leads Peter out into the back yard and Chris goes off to the sitting room to collapse onto the couch.

The Alpha howl echoes through the neighborhood. He sits, holding the collar and waits for the inevitable to happen. Allison comes to sit beside him awkwardly petting his knee. When Chris looks up he sees worry and resignation on his daughter's face. He hates to see her worried, so he takes everything running through his mind and bleeding from his heart and boxes it up shoving it as far away as he can.

There are better things to do with his time than regret and hope, futile emotions both and completely useless. If he can't fix the damage to himself for the moment, Chris decides, at least he can fix the house. He reaches out taking his daughter's hand.

"I'm going to the hardware store when they are done. We could pick your things up from Lydia on the way?" Allison looks torn, probably wants to spend time with her boyfriend now that he's finally back after pulling his disappearance act, but then she sets her jaw and nods.

"What do you want to get?" Chris makes himself put the collar down on the coffee table to be put away later.

"We need to repaint all the doors,—Peter—werewolf claws are hell on the paint job. I was thinking of getting new locks as well," fortunately, she nods ask why he wants locks all of a sudden when the house has always had a 'no locked doors' policy in the past.

The wolves don't come back in much to Chris relief, Allison just gets a message that makes her huff in annoyance as she reads and answers. When she is done, she stands up without any explanation dragging Chris up as well and pushes him towards the garage.

"Right paint, let's go!" Chris wonders if Peter disappearing instead of coming in to take advantage of Chris' lapse at once is a thank you.

At the store it turns out that Allison hasn't inherited her mother's decorating sense, Chris was kind of counting on that. They stall in the paint aisle helplessly lost in the array of colors vaguely aware that white isn't a good idea.

In the end they leave with the locks and a potted plant the survival chances of which Chris deems slim, but at least it feels like a justification for the trip. They stop for coffee on the way and Chris dutifully listens to Allison's plans for the remained of the summer.

He doesn't like that now the whole pack is together they are planning on training, but reminds himself that whatever they think of to do, it won't be like one of Gerard's boot camps and she will be coming home every night.

The rest of the day Chris spends clearing out the wolf supplies while Allison goes to reconnect with Scott promising be back home on time.

The collar is still on the coffee table in the living room when Chris deems himself to be done.

He can't bring himself to move it just yet.

His wife's cell phone and e-reader had spent months on the bedside table on her side of the bed before he put them away too.

**Day 65**

Chris spends the day in his new workshop mangling metal while getting reacquainted with the tools.

Allison thankfully either doesn’t notice or has refrained from commenting on the fact that most of the wolf damage is centered around Chris' bedroom and office.

The heat that's been ramping up for weeks now finally breaks in an impressive thunderstorm that covers Beacon Hills like a blanket by the evening.

Chris throws the windows of his bedroom open to enjoy the coolness the rain brings.

The sounds of the storm don't lull him to sleep as they used to when he was a kid, but they do bring a certain peace.

While listening to the rain and the wind, he doesn't have to think.

The storm drowns out the sounds of movement on the roof. A shape darkens the window for an instant then dives through and Chris regrets that he hasn't put up a mountain ash barrier there to keep unwanted visitors to a minimum. Somehow he always forgets that werewolves have problems with using the front door until it's too late. Illuminated by a lightning bolt, Peter is breathtaking: slick as a seal from the rain as he stops in front of the window. Water puddles on the floor as the wolf stands there and Chris has to pinch himself to check if he hasn't fallen asleep after all.

"Christopher—I thought we should talk." How the wolf manages to be practically purring, Chris will never know but he's been waiting to hear that sound for a solid month. His hands itch for his gun, but he keeps them folded under his head, his muscles straining with the effort.

"Should we?" He questions having expected to be forced into some sort of conversation eventually, but not so soon and in his bedroom. Peter should still be in his own apartment enjoying whatever he enjoys doing there far away from Chris and his—, fortunately, he is good at strategy on the fly: now that Peter is back for whatever reason, Chris decides he might as well take advantage of the situation. He doesn't want to talk, and the wolf is naked, he doesn't have to take a lot of time to think about the things he does want to do.

With a fluid motion Chris rolls out of bed landing on his knees, and whatever Peter was about to say is lost in a hungry growl as Chris crawls over. To Chris' amusement the wolf actually backpedals until his ass hits the windowsill. He grins up, sure the wolf can see him in the dark as he kneels up crowding Peter further. The rain doesn't let up coming down in sheets, lightening flashes illuminating Peter who leans out of the window throwing his head back until rivulets of water are running down his body again. Chris finds himself in the perfect position to lick the rain off the hard abdomen and powerful thighs enjoying the taste until he hears the windowsill splinter under Peter's claws. When he looks up, Peter's eyes are glowing down on him.

"Still want to have that conversation?" He challenges biting along Peter's hipbone.

"Christopher if you don't get your mouth on my dick right now I'm going to hurt you." The wolf growls around his fangs, his claw finding its way into Chris' hair. There is no mistaking the need in Peter's voice, it makes Chris smile as he drags his mouth along Peter's length until he can wrap his lips around the head finding the slit with his tongue. Peter curses and whines bracing against the window, Chris can hear more chunks being ripped from the windowsill. The hand in Chris' hair twitches but only moves minutely petting but not guiding. Chris pushes Peter's legs apart muscling his way in, slowly sliding his mouth further down the hot flesh.

Peter tastes like rain, his skin werewolf hot on Chris' tongue. He regrets that he can't see the look on Peter's face, won't be able to remember the look when he thinks about this in the future. He'll still have the memories of the smell, the needy sounds Peter makes every time Chris does something he likes, the feel of Peter's straining muscles under his hands. Chris feels greedy chocking himself on the wolf's dick, digging his blunt nails into the flesh of Peter's ass urging the wolf's hips to move eager to have his throat fucked raw.

"Christopher—," Peter tries again, but only manages to moan brokenly tightening his hand in Chris' hair a little to force him back until Chris' throat is arched, offered up like a sacrifice to the hungry wolf. He looks Peter straight in the glowing eyes and doesn't want to know what the wolf can see in his face in return. Chris doesn't protest when Peter drags him up, switching their positions and bends him over the remains of the window frame.

The rain lashes his head and shoulders, droplets finding their way down his spine tickling annoyingly, and none of it matters with Peter's mouth on him. The wolf bites his way across the small of Chris' back and down to nuzzle between his ass cheeks to lick hot stripes across his hole. Peter licks him with abandon, sloppy and self-indulgent spreading Chris' ass wide for better reach.

The tips of Peter's claws pierce Chris' skin, Peter's tongue pierces his hole licking and fucking until he aches to be filled. He reaches back, grabs Peter by the hair forces him up amusement flaring briefly at Peter's unhappy whine turning into a hungry moan when Chris directs him onto his back. Peter's touch is scalding on Chris' rainwater chilled skin. He molds himself to Chris' body as if aiming to fuse them together greedy with need. He doesn't waste time fucking his way in short, merciless thrusts filling Chris up until his hips are flush against Chris' ass.

Chris considers himself lucky that he's face down and it's raining, this way there is less chance of Peter noticing that he bites his lip bloody keeping in the discomfort. Despite the initial pain, having Peter inside of him is worth it and the pain will make the memory last longer anyway.He expects the wolf to have at it the moment he's fully sheathed, not to still licking raindrops off the back of Chris' neck or to trail his hands down until he can lace their fingers together. When Peter does finally move it is by rocking his hips in slow, circular motions that tease and make Chris want more. Squeezing Peter's hands tight Chris pulls away, then slams back onto the dick inside of him leaving them both gasping for air. Bracing against the window he sets the pace, fucking himself on Peter's dick with abandon, and for a while Peter allows himself to be used letting Chris have his way.

When Peter gets tired of it, Chris' arms are wrenched from the windowsill and twisted behind his back. He's slammed chest first onto the remains of the sill the wolf heavy on his back knocking the air out of Chris' lungs. Peter grasps both of Chris' wrists in one hand, pins them securely in the small of Chris' back, all the while his dick keeps driving into Chris' body all traces of previous gentleness gone. Chris doesn't expect Peter's hand in his hair, the painful grasp that forces his head back until his throat is arched at an awkward angle that doesn't matter as soon as he feels Peter's teeth on the side of his neck scraping along the strained muscle. Someone howls and Chris realizes that it just might be him trapped between the discomfort of his position and the pleasure of the dick pistoning into his body that's tight as a bowstring—His hand would already be stripping his dick if it wasn't caught in the wolf's grasp. The position leaves Chris' length slapping wetly against his abdomen with every thrust stroked and teased only by the rain. Trapped, Chris shouldn't be hovering on the edge of release already aching for something, the last little thing that will push him into coming. The wolf's teeth nipping at his throat aren't enough nor is the dick ramming into his ass. Chris isn't even sure what it is that he needs exactly only that when it comes he will go off like a roman candle.

The prospect of release motivates him to struggle against Peter's hold, to buckle and trash until Peter puts his full weight on Chris' back cooing while he peppers Chris' neck with sharp little bites. "Don't fight Christopher, give me this, I want to hear that I can have this." The words make Chris want too much yet he doesn't have the breath to stop them.

" _Lie to me, hunter!_ " Peter pants into his ear punctuating the words with brutal thrusts that melt Chris' spine, "tell me!" The wolf commands, jerking his hair and scratching his fangs along Chris' skin. Peter's demands shatter the dam holding back everything Chris wants to say, promise and demand.

The words spill out without his say-so, "you have it, you bastard! You fucking have me! Everything you want—," his words trail off as a particularly hard thrust knocks the air out of his lungs again.

"Yes!" Peter hisses in his ear encouragement and demand wrapped up in one.

"Mark me!" Chris finds himself demanding, all that he wants summed up in one need he doesn't expect to have satisfied. Having his desire out in the open, throwing the words to the wind is liberating. The fight goes out of him, Peter's rough hold and dick are all that keeps Chris from sliding to his knees. Peter freezes, turns into a statue as the words are taken by the wind leaving Chris suspended in the moment whining desperately for more.

"What did you say?" The wolf's voice suddenly clear, and urgent no longer slurred with lust. Under the clarity Chris can hear something lurking that sends cold clawing down his spine. His mouth is too dry to get a word out yet somehow he manages to force them.

"I told you to mark me!" Chris snaps. His hair is released unexpectedly and Chris is too caught up in sensation to anticipate it, his head whips forward almost slamming into the window edge only kept from collision by Peter's hand wrapping around his throat, nails digging in ready to rip it out if need be. A passing thought reminds Chris that he should be far more terrified than he is with the wolf's claws at his throat but with his body still caught in the throes of lust, still aching for Peter's touch no matter how savage in its quest for release he can't find it in himself to care.

"The whole pack will know, every supernatural creature passing through will smell me on you. They'll know you spread your legs for me Christopher, and they are bound to talk so everyone will know eventually that—you—are—MINE!" Peter's voice descends into a growl, the words barely discernible.

"Yes!" Chris hisses pushing his throat against the claw, and that seems to be enough for Peter to move again. The way Peter slams into him, Chris will be a walking bruise in the morning. But it drives both of them towards completion so Chris doesn't care. Grunting and growling they strain against each other as Peter's mouth replaces his claw on Chris' throat. His teeth scrape along the side of Chris' neck down to the where it becomes shoulder, they sink into Chris' muscle torturously slow.

It hurts like hell, but the pain transmutes blending into the whole of the sensations tormenting Chris' body and he comes. For long moments nothing exists except fragments of desperate dreams: Chris and his lover fucking in the rain wearing each other out before going back to bed. They'll sleep tangled together, make breakfast in the morning and— Peter thrusts as deep as he can, growls into the bite and Chris can feel his release. Chris feels the wolf slump for an instant once it's over, winces as sharp teeth are pulled from his shoulder and Peter's tongue laps up all the stray blood before letting go of Chris' arms.

Peter's soft dick slips from his ass leaves Chris empty and hollow instead of satisfied. He straightens up his body protesting the rough use as soon as Peter pulls away breaking all contact between them. As soon as Chris has his balance his hand goes to his shoulder, fingers ghosting over the punctured flesh.

"I didn't bite hard enough to turn you," Peter's voice comes from somewhere in the room strangely defensive instead of the expected smug, "not that the notion doesn't appeal, but—," Chris imagines the shrug that accompanies the words, grateful when Peter trails off instead of finishing. He doesn't know how to respond, as far as Chris can guess they are done now: Peter has gotten whatever re-balancing of power he was after. They can go back to their lives not owning each other anything. Except Peter is still hovering somewhere in the room instead of going out of the window.

"You can always try again," the offer escapes Chris, as he stumbles over to the bed deciding that changing the sheets in the morning will be easier than going to clean up now. He drops onto the mattress wincing from the bruises. He hopes that the bruises will be easy to cover up, Allison won't take it well if he looks like he was mauled by morning.

"Why?" He doesn't jump at the sound of Peter's voice at his side. Chris can't remember hearing anyone sound so plaintive before, he's certainly never expected to ever hear the tone coming from Peter.

"Because I want it," he sighs, talking to the room in general. For Peter that might not be enough of a reason, but it's a rarity for Chris. He doesn't bother mentioning any of this to Peter, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"And what exactly do you want?" Peter's question is barely a whisper. The mattress dips behind Chris, then Peter's hand is on his hip; light and tentative as it strokes up Chris' side.

"Whatever I can get," he answers and Peter's body shifts, molds itself to Chris' back warm and solid. From the feel of it Peter is tense, like he's keeping himself ready to fight or run.

"I always knew you have low standards, Christopher," the wolf makes a good attempt at keeping his tone light, but Chris doesn't quite believe it. Peter's lips brush across the nape of his neck as he talks, and Chris moans unable to resist leaning back into the too light touch. When he isn't rebuffed, Chris leans back against Peter's chest a little.

"Got hung up on you, didn't I?" He snaps into the darkness and feels Peter relax against his back.

"But of course, you did. Who could resist me?" Chris turns his head, and there is the smugness he expected to see all along, only instead of glee there is something that in a bad light can be mistaken for affection. It's enough as far as Chris is concerned.

"I do have to wonder, will I have to watch for an arrow in my back from your very talented daughter?" It almost sounds like Peter is worried. Chris turns onto his back and is promptly rewarded with Peter draping himself over his chest.

"You'll have to ask her that, she wants me to be happy—," he confides to Peter, still amazed that his kid has turned out so well, "—so she'll probably aim somewhere non-lethal if you piss her off."

"The things I do for you, Christopher! Good thing I consider you worth the trouble," Chris is still sniggering at the thought of his daughter shooting his—Peter in the ass when Peter's words finally penetrate his tired mind.

"Do you?" He wonders digging his hand in Peter's hair, privately surprised when the wolf arches into the touch.

"Unlike my current Alpha, I don't actually make a habit out of climbing into hunter's windows in the middle of the night," Chris grimaces at the reminder, "—or anyone else's windows for that matter." Peter finishes primely.

"That's—," for once Chris wishes to have the same abilities as the wolf, he doesn't buy Peter's words for a second.

"Oh don't start! They were climbing into mine if you must know!" Chris feels Peter's smirk against this throat.

He digs his fingers into Peter's skin feeling irrationally possessive of the wolf who moans contently. Peter wiggles around making himself more comfortable and in the process pinning Chris to the bed.

"Go to sleep hunter, and if you're lucky I'll let you scrub my back in the morning," Chris tells himself that Peter is in his bed for now, and doesn't look like he's going anywhere any time soon.

For the moment that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and leaving feedback :)


End file.
